Warm Regards
by Nathaniel Cornelius Caesar
Summary: Set in Vol. You, Part 1. Begins with 'A time for Family' and continues through 'Legacy of Blood'. The Lord Julius' thoughts on his daughter and her husband.
1. Chapter 1

_The Solar of the Lord John of House Julius, the day twenty nine of the second month, the year two hundred ninety nine following Aegon's Conquest (A.C)_

The Lord looked with a face of contained anger at the letter. Beside him, his maester and Justiciar, Lucas of Oldtown seemed content to watch him. His advisors were scattered throughout the room, all waiting for their Lord's response. Yet as they waited he stood still, reading the letter from the new Lord Turner with increasing disdain.

"Well." said the John, setting it down with a sigh "He's a dimwitted one; our new Lady of Hawkhaven has her work cut out for her."

"What meaning do you believe it conveys?" Groat asked.

"It isn't what it conveys, my friend." said Rona with a tight lipped smile "It's what it doesn't."

"But he seems like a malleable enough lad-" Groat began

"A tool isn't useful if it's dull." said Rona "The simple notation of being 'deeply saddened to hear of Kirth's death. ' and 'wishing to pay their respects' is laughable…and a dire political mistake on a regional and realm wide scale; is this what they wish to present to the world? A house of uncouth misfits? Do they believe themselves the Lannisters?"

"It was your decision to make him Lord." said John "I cannot absolve you of your own failure."

"Of course not, my Lord." said Lucas "But we must work with your guidance on how to mitigate this."

"Let us invite him to Kirth's departure." said John "Have a nice, public send off via the old rites."

In the corner, Septa Eleanor seemed to be visibly pinch faced and shaking ever slightly. If one were not paying close enough attention, they would have thought she were having a seizure; as it was, she seemed merely displeased at her Lord's tone.

"I see no point; doubtlessly he'll ruin your cousin's funeral." said Rona "The Turner's are not known in the Westerlands for their grace."

"It matters not; I don't see how he can ruin the simple matter of dumping a minstrel in the ground." said the Lord "Though doubtlessly that shall not the two of them from trying."

"The Lady Jayne-" Rona began

"I raised her." he said " I know what she is like; she is calculating, she is impulsive, she lacks judgment and she is at times too intelligent for her own good."

Groat nearly snorted in response, prior to looking at his Lord with a wary gaze "Calculating? Intelligent? When has she ever shown these traits?"

"Her lack of awareness of her own limitations does not make her stupid; she is indeed intelligent and thus agreed to a marriage that I myself might not have agreed to at her age. In doing so she secured for herself eternal power and position within local society. Her weakness lies not in a lack of wit, but in a lack of the ability to use it rationally." said John "Her elevation is the one good thing that has come of that nonsensical war with Turner and the others."

"And so you have another piece on the board." said Groat "But pieces can go astray; what if our dear Lady Turner develops the King's madness?"

"I doubt we have to worry about that; she is my daughter, after all." said John "Nonetheless she is a grown woman, and I cannot make her decisions for her anymore."

"It shall not matter so long as she bears a child." said Groat "We must have Hawkhaven-"

"You shall not speak of my daughter in such a disrespectful way again." said Lord Julius "Hawkhaven is already ours; with the sealing of the vows, she is entitled to at least a third of the land even if a child is never born. The bedding made that clear."

"A third?" asked Groat "We have tied one of our heirs to a house of traitors for a third of the profit?"

" Do not whine to me, Simon Groat." said John "Speak to our dear friend Rona; she asked that I install the blundering idiot and allow the father to live, even after we had gained all we had ever wanted to know."

"My Lord…." Rona began "Think of the opportunity that having the son in power shall provide us in our control of the region."

"Power that we could have obtained with or without Turner." said John "The Gods see fit for small folk and Lords alike, yet I wonder what fate they wish upon those who are neither."

"But, my Lord." Rona began "Would we not have lost control of Hawkhaven without the use of Turner? Without his fate as leverage, would we not have an enemy in the young Lord?"

The Lord seemed to be at the end of his patience; with the twirl of three fingers, a guard moved from out of the shadows and began to choke the woman before she could react. The menacing figure, Grigg Hoat, seemed as displeased as his Lord by the turn of events.

"Now, Rona dearest." said John in a calm tone "We must first ask what army you believe this young boy would have; I burnt their army to the ground in the war. There is no army for House Turner to speak of. Secondly, I believe as we took on three rebellious nobles and one of them was a noted military strategist we should be able to handle a teenager with dreams of conquest. My son-in-law, as we just discussed, is not intelligent. I sincerely doubt we would have had trouble dealing with him if we had decided at the start to execute his father on charges of treason. Indeed, our lack of doing so shall likely embolden others. We shall never know whom you might have emboldened with this fortuitous marriage to my daughter; after all, traitors are not often rewarded with elevation to the line of succession."

With a wave, he watched as Hoat released the woman. The other advisors gazed as the normally elusive mistress of secrets gasped, attempting to regain her breath as her face turned from purple to blue. Once it had returned to a semi-normal shade, she stood up and dusted herself off. Giving the group her regular allure of calm, she returned to her composure and began to speak.

"My Lord….think of the Starks in Winterfell. They have been replaced by the Boltons. The Tully's by the Frey's. Yet the people still remain loyal. We would face the same fate if we were to occupy Hawkhaven." she said.

"Perhaps, dear Rona." said John "I thank you wholeheartedly for pointing out things that Ella could have told me. But I did not say we would not have placed Devan in his rightful place; merely that he would not have been married to my daughter, nor allowed an ally in his father."

Rona Grey, finally defeated, maintained her silence. In the corner of the room, the old weir witch gave a crooked smile and banged her walking stick twice.

"Yes, Gammer Wilde?" asked John "You have something to say?"

"Tis nothing ya can do now, milord." said the weird witch "They were wed in the eyes of the Old Gods. But….if you were inclined, you could claim that it didn't happen via the chance of the idols."

"You mean the Seven, you hag." said Eleanor "The Faith of-"

"Essos." Gammer finished "Of a foreign land."

"It was brought here by Aegon-"

"Enough." said John "We are not going to undermine the legitimacy of the Old Gods within this holding by turning to the Faith."

The battle seemed to be decided; few would question the great Lord Julius, and so in response Septa Eleanor opted to stare out the window in silence. Meanwhile, it seemed the weir witch would never stop smiling. However, mere moments had passed before Groat banged his fist angrily on the table.

"Why are you smiling, woman?" he asked "This means we're stuck with the morons."

"I believe that was the case the moment we all decided to listen to the fantasies of Ms. Grey." said John "Plus at least this way we have an excuse if we ever decide to invade."

Lucas nodded, sighing "I suppose all that is left to do is prepare for the arrival of her Ladyship."

"What of the young Lord?" asked Groat

"Oh I don't particularly care if he arrives." said Lucas in an uncharacteristically blunt tone "We've pretty much decided he's a moron."

"I couldn't agree more, but we have to make use of our assets while they're available." said John "Rona, make sure the parameter is secure. Groat, secure food for our stay."

Both of them nodded, though Rona did so in a somewhat shaky manner. She looked rather worse for ware; she did all she could to maintain composure as she exited the room, while Groat merely strode by with an air of utter confidence. Meanwhile, the other three remained in the room.

"Eleanor, Gammer, this feud has to end." said John with a annoyed tone "My faith is clear, I have chosen the way and I ask that all respect that."

Eleanor nodded, maintaining her silence before saying "I will do so, my Lord."

"See that you do." said John " It would be a pity, if my rather reasonable laws were to be disobeyed."

Eleanor's face was still as she remembered the fate of Dural, who had faced the noose for the simple crime of being ill with the bracelets and 'endangering the realm'.

"I will, my Lord." she said stiffly "To the best of my ability."

With Eleanor taken care of, he turned to Gammer. The weir witch had an impeccable grin on her face; one would have thought that she had bested the High Septon himself.

"The same shall go for you, if I hear any more prophesying or dismissing of Eleanor's religion." said John "I demand public, not private adherence."

"mlord-" Gammer began

"I do not wish to hear it." said John "She is a Septa of the local order, and as such is allowed to worship within the Sept and perform such private functions which she may be called to do. She is thus in line with my decree. She has done nothing wrong."

The weir witch nodded.

"You are dismissed; if I hear any of this again I shall have your heads." said John

The Septa nodded and exited the room; the weir did the same shortly after. Meanwhile, Lucas stood in the silence, seemingly out of place. It took quite a few moments for him to look up and realize that everyone else had left, save for him and his liege.

"My Lord?" he asked "Is there anything else you require?"

"No, Lucas." said John as he reached over and began to smooth out a ruffle in the man's garment "Nothing at all."

"A- alright." said Lucas, smiling "I'll see you later, my Lord."

"Have a wonderful day, Lucas." said John "I wish you luck in the morning."

Lucas nodded before he left the room. When he did so, the door seemed to close just a tad more gently.


	2. A quaint arrival

_The Village Square of Fortitudo Simplis; the fourteenth day of the third month after Aegon's Conquest (A.C.)_

It was a day unbefitting the occasion; a not inconsiderable escort carrying the banner of House Turner led the way for a whirlicote which seemed to all but saunter down the cobble stone street towards the village. At the head of the entire ensemble were a secondary and third coach of considerably smaller size. The staging was evidently arranged in reverse by order of precedence; the Lord and Lady at the back, the first coach likely held the Lady and Lord's confessor's, Maester's of choice, ladies and gentlemen of the bedchamber and keeper of the seals. The second coach probably held the private guard and regular servants.

The Lord of Fortitudo Simplicis stood with a humble guard at the center of the village and was thus in a prime position to watch them approach. Once they had stopped, the Lady of Hawkhaven was escorted out of the whirlicote by a knight baring the crest of House Julius; Jayne, confidently dressed in the ermine and silk with which only her father could have bought her, stepped out with all the grace of a trueborn heiress. Her husband, meanwhile, took care to not trip over himself. Their manner of approach were as different as their personalities, and the Lady Jayne took no pains to walk behind her husband as another wife would have.

Upon reaching her destination, Jayne Turner merely smiled at her husband in that coy manner which reminded her father so much of Cersei Lannister. It held so many messages, with it's upturned grin which truly wasn't a grin at all. It stated that her husband was a fool, that she didn't need him, and so much more that could not be said in a look.

The Lord would not have disagreed with his daughter, and it was plain to him that though she would learn to like him as a husband and care for him as a friend, she would never truly love him. Though the passage of time would deepen their bond of mutual respect, they would never go to bed as the passionate lovers of myth.

"Greetings, my Lord" said Lord Turner with a smile, extending his hand "Have you been well?"

"I have been quite well, my Lord." said John with a strained smile "Yourself?"

"I have been fine." said Devan "Jayne has been-"

"I believe my daughter, your lady wife, can speak for herself." said the Lord in a cold tone, before turning to the raven haired woman "Yes, Jayne?"

"I have been quite fine, my Lord." said Jayne "Though our lands are still ravaged from the war."

John nodded, looking over at the Lord of Hawk haven "Anything you would like to add, my dear son-in-law?"

Lord Devan, with an ashen complexion, shook his head and looked to his wife. The Lady Jayne merely sighed before speaking once more.

"My Lord, forgive my love his transgressions; he knows little beyond the walls of Hawkhaven." she said, taking care to step to one side so as to separate herself from the inept man beside her.

"It matters little, sweetling." said John with a smile "We are not here to punish your husband for his idiocy."

Jayne, ever her father's daughter, nodded with a grim smile waiting for a response from the Lord of the estate. With a wave of his hand, the Lord of Fortitudo Simplicis escorted them towards the burial site. Some in the village did recall afterwards that, for all of the talk of alliances in the run up to the wedding of the 'thief bride' and her lord husband, the distance between the couple had seemed far and insurmountable. Provided by the weir witches of the Godswood, the funeral had been a short affair and low key ; Gammer Wilde, the Lords spiritual advisor, had led the service. Out of respect for the Lord, Lady Buckwell of Long Rope and Lord Treygard of Spicehall had also attended.

Once the funeral had ended, there had been a rash of condolences: Lady Buckwell and her child (whatever his name was) had approached to offer grief over the loss of 'that kind minstrel'. Treygard had merely muttered 'apologies for your loss, my Lord' and been on his way. His cousin's second wife, Lady Sheryn (or was it Irena? All he knew was that the wedding had come out of his expenses in the end) of House Oridane had expressed her sadness at the 'loss felt both by my Gerrond and myself'. All lies; all convenient, kind lies. In truth, only the Lady Aemira had given their family the dignity of silence with which it had deserved….and she wasn't even part of the family at that point.

Yet it was little beyond what he had expected; the politicking of Westeros never ceased, even in death. He could not pretend that he had cared about his cousin in life and he would not pretend to care about him in death. As they walked the path back to the castle, father and daughter held hand in hand in a solemn silence.

At that moment, there were only the crows.


End file.
